


A Day in the Life

by Mrs_Spooky



Category: Cowboy Bebop
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-10
Updated: 2010-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 04:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6785839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Spooky/pseuds/Mrs_Spooky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike and Jet take a day off and STILL get in trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work marks the introduction of my two favorite recurring characters I created, Calvin Wheeler and Martin Holt. You'll be seeing more of these guys.

Lost another one.

This was the third bounty head in a row that was picked up by someone else. Jet had a good lead, they made good time getting there, but someone already in the area got the jump on them. Oh well, NEXT one! Mono carrier and speeder made their way to the tourist area of New Orlando to console themselves. Spike and Jet had gotten caught up on the bills - breaking even is always a good thing! They had a little in their personal accounts that they could use for fun, and this was as good a time for fun as any.

They landed their crafts and disembarked in the touristy part of town in their mid-afternoon and found a bar where they could grab a few drinks, maybe some laughs. There was a place called Simone's that was said to be a nice place with decent drinks, so they went in and found a table in the corner. They had enough money for a few drinks apiece, so they'd better make it good, Jet thought. 

Spike knew how to amuse himself.  He had a talent for making up stories about the people he saw around him, which he decided to share with Jet.  

"That guy over there with the bad combover - he sells male enhancement drugs to middle-aged accountants. His wife is at home with the gardener while he's out trying to seduce the waitress."  Pointing to the middle-aged woman on the other side of the room, "See that lady?  She's a corporate spy and she's waiting to make love with an upper level manager for a rival corporation to get the jump on their plans for their next big product. That young couple over there are really keeping an eye on the people at the next table, reporting their every move to the Martian government."  

His stories got more and more outrageous, sending Jet into paroxysms of laughter.  Money spent, Jet sighed and made a move to leave when Spike grabbed his arm, telling him to hold on.

There was a group of middle-aged tourists standing nearby, drinking and chatting it up, discussing all the fun they've been having on their vacation and what they were going to do tomorrow. Spike nudged Jet with a wink, then got up and joined them. Jet listened and watched. He had nothing better to do and his partner definitely had something in mind.

"Hey, how's it going? You folks having a good time?" Hell YEAH! Spike started rattling off all the fun things there was to do in New Orlando, pointing and gesticulating with enthusiasm. The tourists were highly amused by this young man who had taken a sudden interest in them. A woman in the group was interested in a show later that evening and asked about the time. Spike held up his arm and told her the time from the watch he wore on his left wrist. 

One gentleman's eyes widened, "Hey, that's my watch!!" 

Spike peered at it, "You sure?"  

"Positive! How… how did you get it??"

Apologizing, Spike removed the watch and handed it back to the man. "I'm sorry about that. Here, let me compensate you for your trouble." He reached into his breast pocket and produced a wallet. 

Another man in the group yelped, "THAT'S MY WALLET!" 

"It IS?? Oh yeah! Where's MINE?" 

Everyone in the party was now reaching for their wallets. The wallets they found were not their own. One woman handed the wallet in her purse to the friend who identified it as his, the man on her left had her wallet. The woman on her right had Spike's. Other patrons in the place, intrigued by the commotion wandered over to see what was going on. The original group of tourists was laughing, amazed at this young man's sleight of hand. Of course they surreptitiously checked the contents of their wallets, just to make sure nothing was missing. To their relief, everything was accounted for.

Jet watched in amazement as Spike managed to pick everyone's pockets and secrete his victims' property onto someone else. The show lasted about 10 minutes before Spike excused himself. "It was great chatting with you guys. My friend is getting lonely over there and I should join him. We're just here for a couple of drinks." 

There was some scattered applause. Spike bowed with a flourish, and parked himself back at the table, grinning. 

Jet shook his head, "That's amazing! Where did you learn all that?" 

Spike just smirked, "Did I mention I had a wasted youth?" He was about to say more, but was interrupted by the barmaid who dropped off drinks for them. 

"Courtesy of the gentleman at table three." She gestured and the two bounty hunters smiled in the man's direction and raised their glasses in thanks. Their patron raised his to them in response. The evening is looking up! A large plate of appetizers was delivered "on the house." Spike's act was so popular the management decided to reward him with food. 

"YUM!!! Dig in quick before I eat it all. They brought out the GOOD stuff!" 

Jet was laughing in delight. They did indeed bring out the good stuff. It was one of those platters that represented a variety of their offerings to sample. Jet had to admit the food was great. 

"It helped out when money got low. You know, after…" his voice trailed off. 

Jet nodded, "You should be on the stage. People pay good money for tricks like that." 

He caught a flicker of something in Spike's eyes, of memories that were perhaps not entirely pleasant. Not wanting to kill the mood, Jet asked Spike what he wanted to do next. There were a few hundred woolongs left that could be spared. They were a bit short on cash, but Jet thought it wouldn't hurt too much to spend a little on entertainment. They both lived frugally, but one had to cut loose every now and then. He really wanted to know what Spike did for fun, and he himself was glad to have someone he could do something with.  "How about hitting the casino down the street?"  The suggestion was met with enthusiasm.

A shout interrupted them. "BLACK! You sonofabitch! How the hell ARE ya?" 

They looked towards the source of the noise and saw the two men who had just entered the bar. Both had their attention fixed on Jet, grinning broadly. Jet rose, grinning in return, "Who let you bastards in here? Where's the manager?"

Spike watched the shoulder slapping men in amusement. The taller man looked to be in his early forties. Dressed in black leather with a long black coat, shoulder length brown hair. Quite the swashbuckler, Spike thought. The shorter man - and the source of the shout - was somewhere approaching 30. He was more conventionally dressed in jeans, t shirt and black leather vest with the beginnings of a beard. Jet was inviting the two men to join them. 

Sitting, the swashbuckler jerked his chin in Spike's direction ,"Who's the pup?" 

Jet chuckled and clapped Spike on the shoulder. "This is my partner, Spike. Spike, this is Cal Wheeler and Martin Holt. Friends of mine, also bounty hunters." There were hellos all around.  The two newcomers had open, friendly faces.  Very affable sorts, both of them.

Holt fixed blue eyes on Spike. "So Jet. You always said you didn't want a partner! Good job on this one, he's adorable. Cute little nip!" 

Spike blinked. Jet groaned. 

Wheeler backhanded Holt across the arm, "Shut up asshole, you're embarrassing me!" He apologized to Spike. "My friend here has no filter. He says any goddamned thing that pops into his head." 

Holt nodded, "I really do, I'm surprised nobody's killed me yet. Sorry about that, no offense meant." 

By now Spike was laughing, "None taken."

Wheeler noted the mostly empty appetizer platter and signaled the waitress to order drinks all round and another platter of appetizers please. Spike and Jet thanked him. 

Jet was curious, "What brings you guys here? On vacation or something?" 

Wheeler shook his head. "We were both in town when the bounty for Youngblood was announced. We both reached him at the same time, had to fight over him." 

Holt chimed in, "Yeah. Poor Wheeler, I totally kicked his ass"  

"Oh yeah? So why was *I* the one who turned him in?" 

Holt muttered something about feeling sorry for him and LET him take him in. 

Yeah yeah yeah. Right!

Holt asked Jet what brought THEM here. 

Grumble, "We were after the bounty Wheeler brought in." 

"Ah! Stand in line, my friend. Stand in line. Better luck next time."

The drinks arrived. Spike looked at Wheeler, "How long have you known Jet?" 

Wheeler leaned elbows on the table, "We knew each other when he was in the ISSP. I was a profiler. I used to consult with the ISSP, mostly for their homicide and organized crime divisions."  

"A profiler?" 

Wheeler nodded, "Yep. I would examine evidence and come up with a profile of the suspect, what sort of person he or she was, what their next move was likely to be, stuff like that. There were times when I'd interview suspects to determine if they were guilty or not." He sat back. "Yeah, give me five minutes with someone and I could tell you all about them. I can spot a lie or if someone is withholding information from a mile away." 

Wanting to change the subject, Spike turned to Holt, "How about you, know these guys long?" 

Holt shrugged, "I used to date Wheeler's mother." 

"No he didn't!" Wheeler interjected. "We met on Ganymede, this guy was the bounty hunter who brought in a suspected serial killer we were looking for. He's the one who gave me the idea that hunting bounties might be an interesting way of earning a living." 

"Yeah! Look at all the fascinating characters you get to meet!"

The waitress showed up with the food and a pile of plates for the bounty hunters. Wheeler, not to be outdone in the question department turned his attention to Spike, "How did you guys meet? How did you get him to make you his partner? He always said he wanted to be alone."  

Spike smiled, "We met in some seedy joint on Io. We broke up a bar fight. He asked me to come with him, I said 'sure why not?' and here we are."

Wheeler was watching Spike closely, fascinated. The boy was telling the truth, but there was something he wasn't saying. There was a nearly perfectly hidden play of emotion behind his eyes, things he would not express.  Interesting! Jet noticed Wheeler's attention was totally on Spike who looked to be trying to ignore it. His partner WAS hiding quite a bit, but that was his business. As much as he wanted to know more about him, that would have to be up to Spike to tell him. He said, "We were just thinking about what to do next. There's a casino nearby, we thought we'd stop in and try our luck." 

Holt was all over it. "Mind if I join you guys? I have a few woolongs to spare, I'll clean out the joint." 

Wheeler asked if it was ok if he joined them as well.

Jet looked to Spike who nodded. Wheeler made him nervous, but these guys were amiable enough, why not?

On their way out of Simone's, a gentleman at the bar who had seen Spike's antics earlier asked him if he would pick his pocket. Wheeler and Holt looked at Jet who laughed. Spike told him, "Sorry, I'm all picked out." Disappointed, the man turned to return to his seat when Spike called out, "Sir!" The man turned back to see Spike holding up the man's wallet. "You forgot something."


	2. Chapter 2

The four bounty hunters met up at the Birdland Casino halfway across town. Jazz piano could be heard over the tones from the slot machines and the chatter of excited visitors. Traveling floor workers provided change for bills or chips if needed. Jet, favoring the slot machines, took a fistful of coins and headed for the machines, Wheeler following. 

Jet turned to Spike, "Where are you gonna be?" 

"I'll probably find a card game, or wind up at the crap table." 

Holt wasn't much of a gambler, being happy just watching. He followed Spike to the craps table.

Wheeler found a deserted row of slot machines and sat down, feeding it coins. Jet stationed himself nearby.

"So Jet, how long have you known Spike?" 

Glancing at him, "A little over three months. He's picked it up quickly. Does a very good job. Why?"

"How attached are you to him?" Wheeler asked.  

Surprised, Jet stared at him, "Why? What's wrong?" 

Wheeler went back to his slot, passed his hand between the sensors triggering another roll. 

"Why?" Jet asked again.

"There's more to that boy than meets the eye. I think he's a good kid, but he could be trouble.  There's a lot that he's not saying." 

Jet knew that already, but kept feeding coins into the slot, absently triggering a roll. 

Wheeler laughed "I like him!  Frankly, I'm contemplating stealing him from you."

***

Spike and Holt found the craps table. Squirming their way towards the edge of the table, Spike laid some of the chips he bought on Evens. The woman at the end of the table rolled a six. Spike grinned as his pile grew. 

Holt was talking, "Where you from, anyway? I'd say Mars, am I right?" 

Spike nodded, glancing at him. 

"Yeah, me too. Moved to Ganymede several years ago, Mars was a little too Chinese for me, know what I mean? No offense! Sorry." 

Spike chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm Japanese, I don't give a shit." 

Holt launched into a discourse about ethnic diversity and the pros and cons of the different colonies' racial mixes. Spike checked his ears for blood, this guy never shuts up! Patrons kept rolling, Spike kept betting - and winning.

Spike's pile of chips grew. 

"Damn, you're pretty good at this shit, aren't you?" 

"I guess," Spike responded.  In fact, Spike was VERY good at this shit. He idly wondered if one could make a living just from the casinos.   _Hell, I almost had to find out!_

Scooping up his now huge pile of chips, Spike headed over to the blackjack tables, looking for an open spot. Holt sat down beside Spike. Spike said to him, "You gonna play? If you're gonna sit, you gotta play." 

Holt knew how to play, but didn't have any chips. Spike spotted him a few tens to get him started.  _No point having him breathing over my shoulder._ The dealer called a new hand, the players anted up. Spike played and won.  He just kept winning.  

Holt, who lost his chips and had to stand was amazed, "It's almost as if you could see through the cards!" 

Spike just laughed, "Nah, just lucky." His cybernetic eye did allow him to discern patterns that weren't visible to the natural eye affording a huge advantage. Plus he could see if the dealer was cheating, having been tutored in the fine art of stacking the deck. So far this dealer was straight up. The pile of chips grew.

Somewhere deep in the bowels of Birdland, a surveillance officer signaled to her supervisor. The two peered into a monitor at the green haired young man with the large pile of purple and orange chips in front of him. "Yeah, he nearly cleaned up at the craps table, now he's working on blackjack." 

"Watch him." 

A call was placed to the pit boss and the security team on the floor.

***

Jet was startled, "Are you serious?" 

Wheeler just smiled, collecting up the coins the machine had just disgorged into the cup. "I'm very serious. He's intriguing. There is something behind his eyes that he hides very well… but not perfectly." He caught the look on Jet's face, "You've seen it too, then."

Grumbling, Jet asked him what he would do if he ever found Spike's secrets. Tire of him and send him off? 

"Of course not! I like the kid and he looks like he'd be a hoot to have around. And if he's as good as you say, I wouldn't mind splitting bounties with him. And who knows what he's capable of! That's something I want to explore as well.  You have a gold mine there." 

"I thought YOU didn't want a partner," Jet retorted. 

"Well, neither did you but you picked HIM up." 

Jet sighed, unhappy.  Wheeler wasn't telling him anything he didn't already know.  He just never counted on someone wanting to lure his partner away. This latest roll paid off again. Scooping the coins into the bucket, he did a quick calculation. He'd actually MADE several thousand woolongs in profit. The two men rose to find another row of slots when Spike and Holt caught up with them. They were smiling broadly. Spike was carrying a bucket that was full of chips. With some alarm, Jet noticed that the visible chips were orange and purple - five hundred and thousand woolong denominations.   _What the hell…?_

Wheeler whistled. Jet took Spike's arm, "I need to speak to you." He pulled his partner aside, whispering "How much have you won? Look at all this!" 

Spike looked almost sheepish. "Couple million at least." Jet started pulling him towards the window to cash in his chips. "We're gonna have to get out of here. They're going to throw us out." 

As he was speaking, two plainclothes security guards blocked their way. "Sirs, we're going to have to ask you to come with us."

Groaning, Jet followed Spike and the security guards. Looking over his shoulder, he could see Wheeler and Holt laughing. Wheeler was motioning that they would wait for them at the main entrance. Security led them through a doorway that was camouflaged by draperies and they found themselves in an austere backstage area that was almost clinical looking.

Herding them to a nearby office, Security relieved them of the buckets they were carrying and invited them to sit then closed the door. They waited in front of a nearly empty desk. 

Jet was sighing. "Didn't you know if you win too much money they can throw us out?" 

"Yeah, I knew that. I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention to how much I was winning." He shrugged "I was just playing, I can't help it if I'm lucky." 

Jet regretted the loss of the woolongs.  _Looks like we won't even break even._  He sighed. 

Tanisha LeRoux was a large, middle-aged African woman who was very good at her job. She had been general manager of this casino for at least ten years and she prided herself on her team's performance in catching cheaters. She was notified that the target and his friend were waiting in her office. "Let them wait."

She met with the surveillance officers and brought in the technical crew to review the tapes. They could find no evidence of messages being passed between the target and the man who was with him at the tables, or even between their target and the man that was with him in the office. Either he's VERY lucky or he's Equipped. Listening to the conversation in her bugged office, it didn't sound as if there was a conspiracy between these two men to cheat the casino. In fact, the older man was scolding him. Satisfied, she strode to her office and took her seat behind the desk. The two men awaited their fate. LeRoux stared intently into Spike's face, looking for traces of dishonesty. She found none.

"Son, your eyes don't match. You're equipped with a cybernetic eye, aren't you?" 

Jet groaned inwardly. 

"Yes ma'am. I lost the real one in an accident. The cybernetic beats being blind in one eye, you know?"

"Mmmm. What sort of enhancements does it have?"   
  
"Enhancements? I don't know, I was a teenager when it happened. It's just an eye."  
  
"MMmmmm."

LeRoux started punching buttons on a calculator on her desk, working out the casino's losses because of this young man. Eight point six million woolongs. That's a LOT for one person, but not THAT far outside the realm of possibility. No evidence of cheating. She would need a court order to examine the features of the cybernetic eye the boy was using. Not worth pursuing. She made a call to her assistant, telling him to bring them.

"Here's what I'm going to do." LeRoux said briskly, folding her hands on her desk. "I find no evidence of cheating on the part of either of you. We are cashing out your winnings and giving them to you. But be advised that you will no longer be allowed into this establishment. As a privately owned company, management has the right to prohibit any individuals we see fit from entering who may prove to represent too great a loss. Do you understand?" The bounty hunters nodded vigorously. Yes ma'am! We understand. 

"We won't be back, we promise. And I'm really sorry about that," Spike told her. 

LeRoux harumphed and handed them the cards her assistant had brought in. They were dismissed.

***

Taking leave of their security escort at the main entrance, Spike and Jet were greeted by Wheeler and Holt. The two had used up nearly a full pack of cigarettes waiting. They were all ears to hear what happened behind the scenes, Holt especially. 

"So, did they beat anything out of ya? Got any new scars?" 

Spike snorted, "Nah, they used rubber hoses. They don't leave much of a mark." 

Wheeler was laughing, Jet was pissed. "Yeah, we can't ever go back there now, but at least they gave us our winnings." He shook his head. 

Spike lit a cigarette and shrugged, not MY fault.

Not ready to call it a night, Holt suggested the dog track just down the road. They ran races in the evening and it wasn't too late to catch it. Everyone liked the idea. Can't get thrown out of a track accused of cheating - unless you're caught doping the dogs, that is. Let's go!

The track was close by, so the bounty hunters decided to walk it. Wheeler fell into step beside Spike, talking to him. Jet moved to catch up and walk on Spike's other side. He wanted to hear what Wheeler was saying to him.   _What if Spike decides to go with him?_  Jet hadn't known him that long, but he realised he WAS attached. 

Holt grabbed Jet's arm, "That kid is amazing. He just kept winning. What's his secret?" 

Jet sighed, "Maybe you were his lucky charm." 

Holt laughed, suggesting maybe he could hire himself out.

"They told you not to come back, didn't they?" Wheeler asked Spike, who nodded. 

"That's what I get for not paying attention."  
  
"You've done that before? Won a lot of money at casinos?" 

Spike glanced at him and said yes, but usually not that much. He shrugged, "Guess I'm just lucky."

Wheeler watched Spike as he was walking. The young man didn't so much walk as he slouched along carelessly. There was a grace and a power that he held behind that careless exterior that Wheeler found both beautiful and fascinating. Taking a chance, Wheeler asked him ,"You a martial artist by any chance?" 

Spike looked over at him in surprise. "Jeet Kune Do. I'm a master at five styles of Kung Fu. Jeet Kune Do takes the best of any style you like and applies it to the situation. It's not so much a style as it is a philosophy."

"Got any plans for the rest of your life? What do you want to do? Are you happy hunting bounties?"

_He sure asks a lot of questions,_  Spike thought. He hadn't thought about what he wanted to do with his life, at least, not since he was a kid. Yeah, there were things he wanted to do, dreams of playing music - maybe even WRITING music - but he grew up being told that his life was all planned out for him. Realising that he had no choice in the direction of his life, that his future was planned by others who were in control of his life, he stopped making plans or even dreaming about the future. The future doesn't exist, only the present… and the past. Spike just shrugged, "I don't think about it much. Why?"

Treading carefully, Wheeler answered, "I don't know. Just curious I guess. " He smiled at the young bounty hunter he was walking with. "I always ask people about themselves. People fascinate me. You look like a good kid that could be more than just a bounty hunter." Then added quickly, "Not that hunting bounties is a bad thing to do! Not at all, hell, I'm doing it, but I don't know if I want to make a full time career out of it. There are other things I like to do and may decide to change directions. I wondered if maybe you had similar ideas." 

Spike looked over at him, measuring. Wheeler had a pleasant open face, and he was amiable enough. Very intelligent too. Spike decided he liked this guy, AND Holt, even if they talked his ear off at times.

Spike lit a cigarette, then glanced back at Jet and Holt. Holt was rambling on about God knows what, but he noticed that Jet was watching him closely.   _What the hell is going on?_  The parking lot was full of vehicles, but not a lot of people outside. They crossed the lot to the main entrance when Wheeler finally got around to saying what was really on his mind. 

"I was wondering. You've known Jet for what, three months now? Feel like doing something different?" 

"Huh?" Spike was frowning. 

Wheeler continued, "Yeah, I was wondering if you wanted to do something else besides hunting bounties. You look like you're capable of so much more and I wanted to give you the opportunity. What do you think about coming with me?"


	3. Chapter 3

They reached the main entrance and paid the fee to get in. Jet caught up with Spike and stuck close to him. Spike noticed and wondered if Wheeler had said anything to him about what he had just told Spike. He sighed.

There were four races left to go that evening, so the four men placed their bets, then grabbed a drink at the bar and wandered over to the stands to watch.

Bell rang and the race started, greyhounds chasing the mechanical rabbit. Shouts from the crowd urged on the dogs that had bets placed on them. The animals performed magnificently, the image of speed and grace. All too quickly, it was over, number seventeen was the winner. 

Holt hooted, "YESSSSS! That's my boy!!" 

"I think that was a girl," Spike corrected. 

"Either way, THAT'S MY PUPPY!" 

They had time to collect winnings and bet before the next race started. Holt wanted to collect his winnings. Spike decided to go with him to place the bets for the next race. Jet and Wheeler studied the form and selected their dogs and gave the instructions to Spike. He took the money for the bets then followed Holt to the window.

As soon as they were gone, Jet lit a cigarette and turned to Wheeler, "So, did you ask him?" 

Wheeler was looking straight ahead as he took another sip of his beer, "Yeah, I mentioned it to him. He didn't answer." Both men waited silently.

Holt was ecstatic heading to the window. Spike was repeating the bets to himself so he got it right when it was time to place them. There was a line at the window so the two of them waited. Spike congratulated Holt, estimating that his winnings would be at least four hundred woolongs. The two chatted while the line shortened in front of them. It was Holt's turn to cash in his winnings when a large, drunken patron cut in line in front of him. 

"Excuse me!! I didn't mean to interfere with your cutting in line!  Or did you just stagger in?" 

Drunk placed his bet then turned and breathed pure booze in his face. Holt coughed. "Dude, need a mint? Seriously, if I had breath like that I'd hold it." 

The drunk, sweaty patron managed to raise himself up to his full height - Holt came up to his armpit, which was unpleasant enough. Pissed off, Spike was nudging Holt, "Shut up, just get your money, I'll place the bet and we'll get the hell away from this jerk." 

Drunk's friends saw the commotion and staggered over to lend a hand.

Holt faced them directly, "Oh my God, you guys are still standing? What's holding you guys up, the stink?" 

Drunk swung and nailed Holt in the jaw. His head jerked back and he went down like a sack of rocks. Incensed, Spike spoke up, "A little self control would be nice. Were you raised in a barn?" 

Drunk swung at him, and connected with his jaw. Spike didn't go down. Instead, he rolled with it. Shaking off the pain, he faced him with an ironic smile. Foot shot up and landed across the drunk's head, knocking him back three feet. Drunk's friends piled on, Spike dispatching them handily, alternatively tossing and kicking. Bodies flying. Alerted to the commotion, track security appeared, keeping their distance from the pissed off young Japanese man. The last of the drunks had gone down, and calm was returned. Warily they approached Spike hands on night sticks, not wanting to be tossed aside like so much used tissue. All Spike could say was, "I didn't start it."

Holt was revived. He was not seriously hurt, but a few teeth were knocked loose. Security didn't want to hear about how the fight started. All they knew was Spike had just kicked the shit out of four men and he had to leave. Now.

Holt and Spike were escorted to the exit. Spike pulled out his communicator to inform Jet that he would not be able to place the bet for the next race and that they were just thrown out of the track. Holt wasn't even able to collect his winnings, which pissed them both off. Waiting outside the main entrance, the two bounty hunters waited to face the music from the two that were still inside. Holt had apologised for his big mouth. 

Jet just sighed with resignation, "We'll be right out."

The two men waited, smoking, for their friends to join them. Several minutes later, the two older men appeared, Wheeler was amused, Jet just exasperated. 

"I didn't start it" Spike started. 

Jet raised his hand sighing. He didn't want to hear it.  _I do love the kid but Cal is right, he IS trouble._  Spike returned the money given to him to place the bets, AND gave Holt the money for the race he won that he wasn't allowed to collect. They all headed back to their mono carriers, ready to call it a night. 

***

Holt and Wheeler weren't parked far from each other. Spike and Jet bid their farewells. Wheeler hung back, not having a response from Spike to the offer he had made earlier. Unfortunately for him, Spike wasn't giving one. 

He just said, "It was great meeting you. Be well." 

Nodding, Wheeler told him the offer still stands. Any time, just let him know. "Seeya later, trouble" Wheeler grinned. 

He left regretfully, but had little hope Spike would change his mind. He could tell that only three months in, the two were already attached to each other, but maybe later….

Lighting a cigarette, Spike offered, "Well, I won more at the casino than the bounty was worth." 

Jet just looked at him, shaking his head. In one day they had been thrown out of two establishments because of Spike. Maybe Wheeler WAS right, the kid was trouble. A fleeting thought flitted through his mind that maybe Spike SHOULD go with Wheeler, but it was immediately dismissed. The kid was already too big a part of him, aggravating as he could be.  _I'm stuck with him, there's no way I can let him go._

They flew home to the Bebop in silence. The two docked and went their own separate ways. Jet was contemplating what Wheeler said, wanting Spike to come with him. Jet loved Spike but didn't know how things were going to go - the kid is wild and he doesn't listen. Talented he is, but he lacks discipline. Jet could tick off the faults that Spike has, but so far, he always comes through when he was needed and could be trusted to get the job done.  He is a brilliant tracker, and, Jet had to admit, a lot of fun to have around.

Spike wanted to work out. He changed into his sweat pants and found his favorite spot in the living area and started stretching. He couldn't get Wheeler's offer out of his mind.   _I can do what I want? I don't HAVE to be a bounty hunter?_  He was weighing the pros and cons of traveling with someone like Wheeler who looked like he had a wide variety of interests. It looked like the sky was the limit with this guy.   _But what about Jet?_

Spike had stretched the muscles in his knees and dropped into a full split. He leaned his body left, right and forward to get the maximum stretch from his legs before his forms. He sighed.   _Jet's pretty pissed off right now._  Spike didn't know WHAT Jet was thinking. Was he hoping he'd go with Wheeler? He stood and stretch out back and arms, then threw practice punches and kicks, working through his routine. Concentration on his movements and reactions to imaginary attackers took over. 

It was in the back of his mind that the Bebop was Home. Jet WAS his big brother who took care of him and Spike realised he loved him too. He couldn't explain it, but he felt that he belonged here, more than anywhere else he had ever been. Jet was a rock, the most honest man he had ever known. Spin kick punch punch grab kick. Sweat was worked up and there was the thought he could be wrong, and maybe he should just continue on alone. Spin leap kick. COULD one live without someone in their life? Punch jab kick. Winding down, he had a few more spinning kicks to throw when he noticed he was being watched. He finished his workout with the ritual he had used for years, winding down. Looking up, he saw the big man watching him. 

Spike went through more stretching to cool down and saw that his partner was still there. Spike sighed inwardly, half waiting for Jet to tell him that maybe it was time for him to move on. He grabbed a towel and wiped his face, draped it over his shoulders, then faced his partner directly.   _No point in putting off the inevitable._

Jet only nodded with a smile, then said, "Dinner's ready. You hungry?"


End file.
